ON THE UPPER ST. JOHN’S. 148 
too, shaped like a narrow wedge, was uncon- 
scionably long; and as the bird showed 
against the sky, I could think of nothing 
but an animated sign of addition. A bet- 
ter man —the Emperor Constantine, shall 
we say ?—might have seen in it a nobler 
symbol. 
While we were loitering down the river, 
later in the afternoon, an eagle made its ap- 
pearance far overhead, the first one of the 
day. The boy, for some reason, refused to 
believe that it was an eagle. Nothing but a 
sight of its white head and tail through the 
glass could convince him. (The perfectly 
square set of the wings as the bird sails is a 
pretty strong mark, at no matter what dis- 
tance.) Presently an osprey, not far from 
us, with a fish in his claws, set up a violent 
screaming. ‘“* It is because he has caught a 
fish,” said the boy ; “ he is calling his mate.” 
“No,” said I, “it is because the eagle is 
after him. Wait a bit.” In fact, the eagle 
was already in pursuit, and the hawk, as he 
always does, had begun struggling upward 
with all his might. That is the fish-hawk’s 
way of appealing to Heaven against his op- 
pressor. He was safe for that time. Three 
